Bloodstained
by skysedge
Summary: Over and over again, he would fall in love with the bloodstained angel who watched the world through empty eyes. Each time, he would hate himself for doing so. JizabelxCassian oneshot.


**A/**N _I know, I know...I'm sorry for not updating anything yet. I've had block and I start uni in two weeks so I am mega stressed. But! I finally got around to writing this little thing that'd been floating in my brain for a while. _

_Oh, and hello to everyone who sued to sue the Count Cain section XD My first update after the merge. I suggested that merge like 6 months ago...-.- But at least it finally happened! To those who don't know me, I am Sorryll, the JizabelxCassian addict with a passion for chainsaws. Anywho, onwards!_

_This story inspired by 'Over and Over' by Three Days Grace. I do not own The Cain Saga, all rights belong to Kaori Yuki_

_-x-_

The common room provided for Delilah's trump cards was hot, the air heavy with alcohol fumes and loud with bitter words and curses, tempered with unkind laughter. The trump cards sat at tables playing cards, on sofas drinking and discussing their work or sitting quietly by the fire and brooding over their chances of rising to the top of the organisation.

One card sat alone in the darkest corner of the room, eyes turned away from the others and mind turned inward. He sat with his chin resting on one hand, elbow propped up on the small table before him. With his other hand, he was lazily throwing a knife into the air and catching it again, allowing the blade to make a full rotation of flashing silver before it came down. He was paying the knife barely any attention, throwing it in the same way others tap their fingers against a table to an unheard tune. He was deep in thought, but not consumed by personal ambition like the others. He was not brooding about the cruelty of his position, nor laughing at the misfortune of others. His mind, as it was so often of late, was turned upon one sole person, one face flashed before his eyes when he blinked and one voice was ringing in his ears.

"Hey, Cassian!" one of the others called over from the table where he and a few others were playing cards. "What are you sittin' over there for? Come and play."

Cassian turned his eyes slowly upon the speaker. "Not tonight," he said vaguely.

The speaker scowled. "'Not tonight' he says," he said loudly, attracting the attention of all the others in the room who turned to watch with unkind expressions. "'Next time' he says. 'Every bloody night. Well, I say _every_ night, but he's not here _every_ night, are you, Cassian, eh? Where do you go every night?"

Cassian sighed deeply and pocketed the knife, turning towards the room. All eyes were glaring at him. He knew he should have been expecting this, but just didn't feel like dealing with it tonight.

"I don't go out every night, Thomas. And where I go when I _do_ go out is none of your business."

"I know where he goes," a young card sitting by the fire piped up. Cassian mentally rolled his eyes at the eagerness of youth. "Everyone says that Cassian can be seen creeping around at night. All over the place he goes, through the Arcana wings, down to the research labs and even out of the complex."

"Oh, does he now?" Thomas rounded on Cassian, leering. "And why would you be doin' that, eh?"

Cassian narrowed his eyes, mind filled with memories of cold nights filled with worry and cold hands warm with blood. "I already said it's none of your damn business, kid."

As soon as the word left his lips, he knew it had been the worst move he could make. The assembled faces before him creased into masks of scorn and, as usual, Thomas acted as the speaker for all.

"Oh, think you're _better_ than us do you, Cassian? You might be older than a lot of us but you're a runt just the same."

"Yeah," the young one added. "Just because you're Death's assistant doesn't mean you're any better placed than the rest of us."

Cassian shut his eyes.

_Rank_, he thought, _It always comes back to rank and power and pride. If only these idiots _knew_. If only they knew the things he-_

"That's where he goes!" another person shouted gleefully, enjoying Cassian's obvious discomfort. "I've heard he sneaks out to find Death every night. Uncommonly close, aren't you Cassian? Everyone says so. Why don't you explain it to us?"

Cassian's eyes slammed open and he glared at the speaker hatefully, cursing every power-hungry soul in the room that had given up hope of ever rediscovering humanity.

_And what do _you_ know about Death, you idiot? _he thought angrily. _What could you possibly know about him? How could you possibly understand that sometimes, there are things more important than rank and title?_

Outwardly, he remained silent, wondering why he had bothered returning here at all. These people weren't his friends, weren't even his comrades. When he had first arrived there, he had never been interested in making friends; his own ambition wouldn't allow it. However, back then, others tolerated him. Since he had become the doctor's assistant, effectively making him one of the more powerful trump cards, scorn and anger had been directed his way. At first he had hated it because he had hated the doctor, and didn't see why the position was enviable. Now he hated it because he knew the position was an even worse one to hold than he had first assumed...and also because he hated the hunger he saw in their eyes.

They wanted to work for the doctor so they would be privy to Delilah's secrets, secrets they imagined Cassian was happy knowing. In truth, Cassian wished he had never learnt anything at all as it had only brought him pain and yet he was not willing to surrender the position to anyone, even if he could. His conscience, that had been lying dormant for so long, would not allow it.

"Explain it, Cassian!" Thomas yelled angrily, interrupting his train of thought. "Why is it that you'd rather spend your time with Death than with us? Is he paying you? Is he telling you secrets? Is he going to promote you?"

With each question, Thomas took a step forward, his large and muscular frame effectively trapping Cassian's smaller figure in the corner.

"Or is it something else?" Thomas added, mouth curling into a dangerous smile. "After all, I've heard that the doctor is often seen in the company of the head priest, and we _all_ know what kind of sick things _he's_ into, don't we? Eh, lads?"

The room erupted in a babble of excited suggestions, every person fuelled by their curiosity as to what Cassian was going to say and relief that they weren't the one being singled out.

"They say the Head Priest locks people up in these nasty cellars," one said.

"I heard he experiments on the poor," the young one added.

"Ah, but _everyone_ knows what he likes best..." Thomas said slowly. "Don't we? Our dear Head Priest is often seen leading young boys into his mansion, young boys which are never seen again. And it's no secret that he'd like to see your precious doctor in his mansion too." Leaning down into Cassian's face and leering, Thomas grabbed a fistful of the smaller mans shirt. "What kind of sick game have you got involved in, Cassian? Are you going to tell us or not?"

There was a flurry of movement and before he could grasp what was happening, Thomas was standing with his back against the wall. Cassian may have been smaller, but his enhanced speed gave him the upper hand. That, and the anger that was blazing in his dark eyes. With one hand, he held a knife pointing towards the soft flesh of the man's stomach, while another was held up against his throat. The other people in the room backed away.

"How many times to do I have to tell you?" he said in a dangerous voice that was loud enough to carry. "My actions have got nothing to do with you, or with _anyone_ here. You make me sick with your questions, Thomas. You shouldn't make assumptions about things you know _nothing_ about."

When he finished speaking, Cassian let his knives dropped and walked away swiftly, leaving the common room before anyone would think to follow him. He opened the door to the corridor outside and a rush of cool air washed over him. He stepped out into the corridor and reached out a hand to slam the door behind him but was stopped by an unfamiliar voice calling his name.

"Wait! Cassian, wait!" He turned to see the speaker was a young, naive looking boy, obviously new to the society and still eager to do good in such an evil place. "There's something I was going to tell you!"

Cassian raised an eyebrow and the speaker continued.

"I heard only this evening that Death has gone missing again," he said hurriedly and misread Cassian's suddenly weary expression as one of concern. "I am assistant to one of the researchers under his command, and I heard them saying that he went out this afternoon and didn't come back. They wanted to follow, but the Cardmaster told them not to look for him. I wanted to tell you because-"

"I think you've said quite enough," Cassian cut in and scowled, before turning and leaving the room quickly.

_I'm sorry, doctor, _he apologised silently. _I wish these idiots wouldn't keep babbling about you as if they understand. I'm sorry I give them a reason to be curious about you._

His steps lengthened until his walk became a run. As he rounded another corner, he slammed a small fist against the wall as he passed.

"I'm sorry I can't pretend not to care anymore," he said quietly, and quickened his pace.

The incident in the common room quickly fading from his mind, Cassian raced through the corridors of the sprawling complex that served as Delilah's headquarters. His mind was racing as he tried to figure out where the doctor could have gone. Although he was mostly concerned, a small part of his mind was angry. He needed a night off, a night to rest, even if 'resting' meant having to fight with other trump cards. He didn't know whether he was up to playing this game every night; his nerves felt ragged and his emotions were in a wild tangle that got worse with every night spent prowling the streets. When he agreed to join Delilah, Cassian had known he would see terrible things and most likely be subjected to terrible pains, but he had not foreseen that the pain would be found within his heart rather than through bruises and blood.

He pushed open the heavy side door to the complex and rushed out into the shadowy streets of the city. Tonight, like every night, a part of his mind was urging him to stop and asking him one simple thing, the same thing that the trump cards wanted to know; why?

_Why do I do this?_ His mind whispered hopelessly. _Why do I waste my time looking for him when I know he doesn't give a damn about himself, let alone about me? _

As he ran, Cassian tried to block the questions out but each stung him more sharply than the heavy rain that was now falling stung his pale skin. The same cycle that repeated every night was in full swing. No matter how many times he ran, he would still question himself, and no matter how many doubts he had he knew he would keep running.

_Why did I stop trying to live for myself and start living only for him? Why is it that every time I close my eyes I see his face in the darkness, and hear his voice in my head? Why do I feel the need to protect him from the world, even when he seeks out the danger himself?_

He pelted through an alleyway and around a corner which brought him in sight of Tower Bridge, the light from the many gas lamps along its edges being distorted by the rain so that the colour bled into the darkness rather than illuminating it. There was a lone figure on the bridge. Cassian sped up.

_Why do I care at all?_ he now asked himself angrily, footsteps carrying him onto the bridge. _How can I care about someone who cares about nothing in this world? How can his eyes remain empty while I feel the pain for him?_

He reached the centre of the bridge and the figure turned towards him effectively silencing his thoughts. The person stood by the crumpled corpse of a young woman, both of them covered in blood. Long, bloodstained silver tresses clung to pale skin as the rain continued to fall and shining amethyst eyes watched Cassian blankly. The doctor stood by the lifeless body, scalpel in hand and wore an expression of absolute emptiness, the true incarnation of death, not malicious and angry but silent and uncaring, cruel in its apathy.

And yet...

Cassian raised a hand to his head and laughed softly at his own foolishness. The scene was familiar but not any less frightening because of this. The emotions that now coursed through him were familiar too, particularly the bite of guilt and shame. The questions were more familiar than anything.

_Why does he still look beautiful to me? _Cassian's mind whispered while his eyes filled with sorrow. _How could I be foolish enough to fall for someone like this?_

He stood perfectly still and waited for his emotions to subside. He knew the doctor wouldn't run, he never did, he always waited quietly until Cassian could persuade him to return. And then, as soon as he was left alone...

The cycle had been repeating for months, now, had started shortly after the incident with the deadly doll Merediana. The doctor would disappear from the complex for long periods of time and then return covered in blood, sometimes the blood of others but more often his own. At first, Cassian had only been mildly curious, was still puzzled over why he had saved the doctor from being shot by his brother and vaguely annoyed that he had done so. Yet, as time passed and the doctors outings increased in number, Cassian grew more concerned. He had begun trailing the younger man and found that he would simply wander around London for hours on end until night fell, when he would tend to drift to one of several spots. Once there...Cassian had been disconcerted but not particularly surprised the first time he saw it. The doctor would find himself one of his spots and then proceed to mutilate himself, not bothering to check whether anyone was looking. This was why he sometimes killed others, if they were unlucky enough to ask him if he needed help. When he was satisfied he would return to Delilah without a word to anyone, and once there would often pass out from blood loss.

Always having been too curious for his own good, Cassian began to watch his superior constantly. He found that the doctor normally went for his outings after he had been reprimanded by the Cardmaster but hadn't realised why until he had overheard the Head Priest Cassandra telling the doctor what he had seen of his past.

Cassian had felt angry then, angrier than he could remember. Alexis knew his son went outside like clockwork in order to hurt himself and yet did nothing to stop it. _No one_ did anything to stop it. Nobody cared at all...and perhaps because of this, Cassian found himself caring. Before he knew it, he was spending the majority of his time thinking about the young doctor, felt angry when others talked about him as a monster and wished that they could see his other side, the side that stood in the sunlight with the doves. That side of the doctor was beautiful, ethereal almost and Cassian knew that this was the side of him that felt the need to hurt himself.

And so, whenever news of the doctor's absence reached his ears Cassian would rush to find him, living with the constant fear that one day he wouldn't come back of his own accord. Every night he was forced to ask himself the same questions until he was sick of them and could still find no answer other than that he had fallen in love with the silver haired man before he had realised it was happening. He had spent many hours trying to talk himself out of it, telling himself that it was wrong and that, more importantly, love had never been real for him and so never _would_ be, especially not when it was bestowed upon someone with the name of Death. And yet, not matter how many times he convinced himself otherwise, he would still feel his heart aching.

Over and over again, he would fall in love with the bloodstained angel who watched the world through empty eyes. Each time, he would hate himself for doing so.

Cassian slowly lowered his hand away from his eyes to see the doctor still watching him silently. He took a breath and then spoke quietly.

"Why did you kill this one?" he asked, motioning towards the corpse with his foot.

The doctor smiled thinly. "She asked me if I wanted her to take me to see a doctor. When I told her that she was in fact speaking with one, she wasn't very amused."

Cassian smiled weakly and took a step forward, a little relieved. Some nights, the doctor wouldn't speak to him at all, or would talk of wanting to end everything. Tonight he seemed more like himself.

"Let me see," Cassian said gently, lifting the unresisting arms and inspecting his sleeves. Cassian was shocked; this time, there was no blood. No wounds. Not even a scratch marred the doctor's skin. Cassian glanced up to see the doctor smiling at him and was taken off guard. It wasn't the smile of someone who had given up hope and so was prepared to find humour in anything, it was the smile he saved for his animals, a _true_ smile. Cassian was speechless.

"Cassian," the doctor said quietly, lowering his arms. "Why do you come and find me every time I leave? What can possibly be in it for you? It's not like you'll be promoted for it, and I've heard that the other cards grow restless with your wanderings. So...why follow me? I never asked you to, did I?"

Cassian frowned, thrown off-balance by the cycle being broken. In his state of disorientation, he answered truthfully. "You don't need to ask me. I follow you because I want to follow you, and I don't care what the other cards have to say about it. _Someone_ has to care about you, kid. I guess that someone ended up being me."

Jizabel's smile faded a little in confusion. "How can you care about me?" he asked softly. "Why would you do that?"

Cassian shrugged. "Does it matter?"

The doctor shook his head and stepped over the corpse, leading the way back towards the complex. Cassian walked beside him, confused as to the younger man's actions and annoyed at himself for answering the questions. Despite himself, he asked a question of his own.

"Doctor? Why is it that you do this? Why do you come out here like this so often?"

The doctor paused then, the soft smile once again gracing his features. With a slender hand, he grabbed Cassian shoulder and turned the smaller man towards him who, despite his older years and cynicism felt suddenly overwhelmed and vulnerable. The doctor was watching him now with eyes that shone in the light of the gas lamps, the intensity of his gaze not weakened by the rain falling between them. The mask that he normally wore had been lifted and Cassian felt another aching in his chest, this time from sorrow. He felt a keen sense of waste when faced with that smile.

_This man is beautiful, _he thought. _He can be soaked to the skin in rain and blood and still smile like an angel. If his father had left him alone as a child, what kind of man would he be now? How could Alexis twist a creature as beautiful as this?_

"Cassian," he said suddenly, breaking through his thoughts. "Seeing as you've just told me that you are the only person in this world to care for me, don't you think you should call me by my name when asking me a question?"

"Jizabel," he said hesitantly, as though afraid his voice could break the syllables, "Why do you do this to yourself?"

"Isn't it obvious?" he answered quietly, raising a hand to Cassian's cheek. "I do it so that you can come and find me."

Jizabel turned and began walking swiftly back towards the complex, leaving Cassian standing in the rain alone. The warmth that Jizabel's hand had left on his cheek was washed away by the cold rain though his heart remained racing.

_If he does this because of me, then does this mean that he..._

"No," Cassian closed his eyes and shook his head. "Enough of this."

He knew in his heart that this night meant nothing and that it was just a variation of the cycle he was trapped in. The doctor had said that he _hated_ all of humanity. What chance did a trump card trapped in the body of one much younger than himself have against such a consuming hate?

Cassian slowly followed his superior back to the complex, a small shadow in a world of shadows much larger than himself. His mind full of the usual questions, he consigned himself to many future nights of fights with trump cards, of rain, of blood...and yet for the first time, the shadow walked with the tiny hope of redemption, that in the whirlwind of 'why's and 'how's , there would always be the tempting and terrible 'if'.

-x-

**A/N** _Thanks for reading my lovelies, please hit that green button and drop me a line to tell me what you thought. Even if you hated it and want more Cain and Riff XD (A little secret...I am about to start a new fic that'll be pretty long and have CainxRiff as well as JizabelxCassian, plus lots of blood, insanity and angst. Roll on good times)_


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